


We Two Have Run About the City

by freezerjerky



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, New Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/pseuds/freezerjerky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief conversations on the stairs early in the New Year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Two Have Run About the City

**Author's Note:**

> Title bastardized from the line "we two have run about the slopes" from "Auld Lange Syne" by Robert Burns, which is the most iconic New Years' poem.
> 
> A little something I wrote quickly to celebrate both the beginning of 2012 and season 2.

By 4 a.m. most of the celebratory noises had died down in the city. It was oddly still and quiet as John woke up. The right side of the bed – Sherlock’s side – was still warm, so he couldn’t have been gone for long. John climbed out of bed and grabbed a pair of pyjama pants and his dressing gown. He slipped them on and made his way to the living room, which was dark and empty. He then peered into the kitchen, which was just as dark and just as empty, when he turned around to re-enter the living room, he noticed that the door to the flat was opening and the faint odour of smoke was wafting up the stairs. With a small smile, he made his way down the darkened stairway.

                “There you are,” he said as he sat on the bottom step alongside Sherlock.

                The other man was dressed in only his dressing gown, his hair dishevelled and a cigar in his right hand.

                “You took longer than I anticipated.”

                “Yes, well, I was quite knackered after our private celebration.”

                “I noticed.”

                They shared a laugh at this, and John placed his hand on Sherlock’s knee.

                “You shouldn’t have that inside, at least not in the hall,” John commented.

                “Mrs Hudson is fast asleep and went to bed properly pissed, so I doubt a little smoke will wake her up.”

                “I thought you didn’t smoke anymore?”

                “Cigarettes,” Sherlock stated. “Cigars are traditionally used for celebration, and tonight is as good an occasion as any.”

                “Well at least share, yeah?”

                They passed the cigar between them for a few minutes, each taking long drags and enjoying the silence of early morning.

                “Why’d you get out of bed?” John asked.

                “Hard drive wouldn’t shut off. New years are a lot to process. New annual data, new murders, new dates, new everything. How many locked door murders will there be this year? Will the file be bigger or larger than last year? Questions I can’t answer.”

                John shook his head and laid it gently on Sherlock’s shoulder, stifling a yawn.

                “It’s always so quiet these first few hours, but it’s just a ruse, of course. Everything’s just new, even though it’s a day just like yesterday, but to all of the idiots of the world – it’s new.”

                “New chases, new cases, new kisses, new dates at Angelo’s, new movie marathons, new shags,” John started.

                “Shags are that far down on your list of exciting events for the new year?”

                “Best for last.”

                “Ah.”

                “We’re going to spend this year just like last – running around this city like madmen and then coming back to the flat and having mind-blowing adrenaline fuelled sex. I mean, if that’s still what you want.”

                “Of course.”

                “Good.”

                They smiled at each other for a few moments before John leaned over for an almost chaste kiss. Sherlock reciprocated by grabbing the back of his head and deepening the kiss, and John gladly opened his mouth to allow the intrusion of Sherlock’s deft tongue. Sherlock was at a loss for control with one hand around John and the other clutching a cigar, so John took the lead, slowly sliding his hand down from Sherlock’s neck to his chest to his stomach to his groin, grabbing his half hard cock before John pulled away from the kiss and abruptly stood.

                “Come back upstairs, and we’ll continue the celebration in our room.”

                They practically raced up the stairs, which was the first of many breathless chases back to the flat for the year.


End file.
